Memetic Mutation
by DreadPirateSephy
Summary: Memetics: the study of mental evolution through units of culture- beliefs, patterns of behavior, ideas- which "host" in the mind. Under certain circumstances, a unit can mutate within an individual, and occasionally spread, like a virus of the mind.
1. prologue

**prologue**

Sometimes things happen. That's life, right? But sometimes these things that happen seem like they don't have a reason, don't make sense, don't just happen and let you move on smooth. Sometimes, things happen that change things. Sometimes it's just the little things; where you put your toothbrush, which shampoo you use, the way you drive to work. But sometimes it's the big things; where you live, how you live, what you do with your life. And sometimes, it changes everything, seeps into everything you touch, you feel, you are, and warps it, just a little, to make the whole impossible to fit back together. It changes everything about you until you don't even know who you are anymore, and leaves you lost by the side of the road with no means to find your way home. What happens then? What can you do? Where do you go from nowhere? How do you pick up the pieces of something that has already turned to ash and disappeared with the breeze?

**a/n: Yes, so, disclaimer first, I suppose. I don't really own anything. I just decided, after a very odd dream one night, to take it, twist it, shake it all up, and see what it became. Warnings, this story is what happens when I need to vent, experiment, and explore, and as such, it will get VERY weird. In plot, structure, you name it, I'll break it and glue it back together in a strange new form and then throw glitter all over it. Plot wise, basically, it's almost AU, but not quite. It's what canon might have been if something happened, something hundreds of years before Shinra Electric and Cloud Strife and Meteor, something that warped the future and turned everything inside out. Also, it is indeed a self insert, but NOTHING like my other one. This is the story-place I go to when I need to play on the darker side of my head for a while, and as such, things will get graphic, horrible, and stranger in a much different way than what you might expect if you've ever read my other stories. In any case, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it despite its twisted, sharp, and ruthless flavor. **


	2. chapter 1

**chapter 1**

I hated mornings. I hated school. I hated buses. And today, especially, I hated myself.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" came the excited cry of a familiar voice, and with it one of the few things I did love in my life. I forced a smile on my face and hoped it just looked tired and not as bone-weary and mentally exhausted as I felt.

"Thanks, Kelly," I replied dutifully, and accepted the strangely wrapped package she passed me with mild surprise. I hadn't expected her to be able to buy me a present this year, what with having to save up for baby things. She must've read my surprised stare, because she blushed in embarrassment and shifted.

"Don't get all excited. It's nothing big. I just remembered that you like Final Fantasy, and this guy at work was selling his copy for pretty cheap." I stared at her sternly. "It was, like, two bucks, relax! He said he just wanted to get rid of it, fast. He's been selling a lot of stuff, since his apartment burned. I think the game is actually half-melted…" she elaborated, still looking ashamed. I instantly felt guilty.

"Well, thank you for thinking of me. I really appreciate it. I just don't want you wasting money on me," I assured her, giving her a hug. At least she smiled before the bell rang and I had to leave, off to class and a final awaiting my failure.

I didn't know it then, wouldn't know for a long time, but that was the moment everything changed, warped, twisted out of control, shattering the life I knew and assembling it in a mocking semblance of reality. If only I'd realized it then, I might have been able to save every life I lost because of that one day. But that's life, too, isn't it? You don't get a re-do button, no second chances. You can only stumble your way through the thorns and hope that soon you'll find the rose. But sometimes, I guess, there are no roses. Only briars. Briars, and flames.


	3. chapter 2

**chapter 2**

It wasn't until after graduation that I really started to notice that all the odd instances, feelings of being watched, studied, that I'd brushed away in the frenzied haze of the usual post-exam lectures, holidays, the start of my last semester of high school, applying for colleges, the start of my first relationship, graduation, and the complicated end of said relationship, were somehow, inexplicably and indisputably linked with the slightly melted, completely unusable game that had taken up residence decoratively on my shelf. But even then, I didn't give it much thought, stupidly, selfishly thinking that I didn't have any to spare. I never have been very good at thinking ahead. But I've always been great at lying to myself.

College started; somewhere new, strange, and far away from everyone I knew and loved. Somewhere I couldn't hide from the demons in my own head anymore. I broke in my first year, starving myself with strawberry soda and microwave burritos and spending hours curled up and sobbing in the shower. That's why it almost seemed too perfect that I was spared my parents' wrath at failed classes and wasted money. The day they came to get me and my things was the day that I first realized that something was generally… _off_… My father had just shoved the last box of things in the car when neat hair, polished shoes, and a pristine coat approached, a polite but cold smile curling the lips as the eyes glittered calculatingly behind dark glasses. I stiffened, unable to relax as my parents did as a smooth voice purred an introduction and a graceful hand produced a business card. My father took it curiously, reading it before stepping into this man's dance of trickery and seduction. I listened in frozen confusion as they talked of scholarships, research, transfers, and paperwork. Finally, after what felt like lifetimes, the man wrapped up his piper's tune and held a hand out to me with a charming smile. Before I could even think, I felt my arm lifting, my hand grasping his. I wondered vaguely how my parents couldn't feel the strange electricity running under his skin, but then it was gone and my parents ushered me into the car. They talked excitedly about this sudden possibility during the long ride home. I stared out the window, absently rubbing the hand that felt like it was burning and freezing at once.


	4. chapter 3

**chapter 3**

Another summer passed rather uneventfully, still filled with strange incidents that I finally started taking note of. It seemed my stunned, almost horrified silence had counted as consent to both the strange businessman and my parents, as before I knew it, and without ever having to do fill out or sign any forms, I was transferred to an exclusive- almost singularly so- "school", where my tuition was to be paid by cooperating with researchers and classes consisted of God only knows what. My friends, however, didn't seem to think there was anything strange with this, seeming to feel that my concerns were ungrateful and selfish, and so I said nothing more about it.

And so it was with resigned trepidation that I moved into my new apartment and began a new semester at a new school, with no idea at all of what to expect. Fortunately, when it comes to the unknown, I plan for the worst.


	5. chapter 4

**chapter 4**

It was with irritated recognition that I opened the door on the morning of my first classes to the distant but polite smile and pristine suit of my assigned "guide". Mornings were never my happiest moments, and my own nervous imagination made this one much more turbulent than I would have liked. Hazily, I noticed the route we took to the building classes were held in, barely concerning myself with names and locations. I was tired, though, not stupid, and most of my attention went to my almost-silent "guide". Whether because of the suit or in spite of it, the fact that "guide" was the least of our assigned roles was chillingly plain. "Guard" was the first thing that sprang to mind, but was rather startlingly dismissed. Unless perhaps he was there to guard the facility from me. Certainly not in a physically threatening sense. Oh, no. Of my many faults, my physically prowess was not one I had any delusions about. I've always been rather short. Well proportioned, I suppose, but stocky, stumpy, and not terrible agile. The most intimidating aspect of my frame is sturdiness, but when coupled with my appalling lack of grace, coordination, and any sort of equilibrium, it doesn't really amount to much.

Which left the only other somewhat obvious aspect of myself. One that I love and hate in equal measures, and varies from day to day depending on my mood and caffeine intake. My mind. Occasionally, I could twist and squirm my way through the toughest of intellectual challenges, but more often than not, I was rather dumb. Oblivious to most things outside of my interests or purview, a terrible memory outside the realm of useless information, and a common sense that took frequent vacations and left my mouth in charge; I was not the sharpest crayon in the tool shed. Most days it seemed I was the only crayon in the tool shed, and left me wondering what kind of idiot put a crayon in a tool shed in the first place.

Whatever the case, and aligned with my first suspicions, it seemed this "school" was a place of many secrets. The sort of secrets its "students", and more assuredly their parents or guardians, would be rather unsettled to learn. The sort that were suddenly of keen interest to me, and I would stop at nothing to uncover them.

"Beware the one with nothing left to lose", as they say.

They would learn soon enough that one "guide" wasn't enough to stop the stubborn and unshakable will of a girl with nothing left but curiosity and an underdeveloped sense of self-preservation. Whether they responded with fear, hate, or wary respect, they would learn.

But if I was careful, by the time they did, it would be far too late to oppose me. Stealth has never been my forte, but I was willing to learn, to stay one step ahead, to predict their moves and adapt as needed. When one has nothing left inside to draw from, primal, predatory instincts arise. Fight or flight; survive or die.

Algebra suddenly seemed a bit less daunting.


	6. chapter 5

**chapter 5**

To be added to my list of feats I should not endeavor to achieve: hacking, scaling fences, sneaking of any sort—most especially through air ducts-, and making sheet ladders. The past few months had earned me more than a few cuts, bruises, and awkward situations, much to the displeasure of my "hosts". I'd been through six guards already, and was on my seventh, each having been replaced whenever my particular "mission" went badly, and I was discovered snooping.

Despite my discouragement due to my shortcomings in the detective field, I was a little pleased with my own acting abilities. At least, I would prefer to think of them as acting abilities, rather than the more likely alternative that the impression everyone else had of me was one of sheer stupidity and obliviousness. Either way, though, it had kept me out of trouble, and I was grateful for it. If they decided to underestimate me, so be it. I would use it to my advantage.

Which was how I'd decided on the system I had going currently. Every day, an hour after classes—and Ghost Adventures-, I would gather my work for the day and trek to the library, where I usually stayed until midnight or so. I'd finish my homework, work on projects, and then browse through the books. I've always been an avid reader, and libraries have always been a kind of sanctuary for me. In them, I felt at home, in my domain and invincible. I'd spend hours devouring any and every book I could find. It wasn't unusual for my fare of the day to start with a romance or fantasy, ease into some sort of educational book—often about animals, history, or some interesting mystery, like the Bermuda Triangle or Loch Ness—to any of the interesting documents I happened upon in the later evening. Around 11 or so every night, and after a few weeks of boredly watching me power my way through the entire works of Tolstoy and Shakespeare, my guards had decided I was safe enough among my books. I guess they missed the one explaining how to pick locks and disable alarms. Perhaps that was because I'd switched the cover with Harry Potter when no one was looking.

Some time after I had camped in the library long enough to see the sun rise and had formed a loose sort of friendship with the librarian, she tiredly commanded me to make sure the doors were locked, and to turn the lights off when I left before waving and leaving me alone among the tomes. I swallowed the giddy bubble of excitement that welled up and nodded agreeably before returning to the pages of a history of battleships. I continued my charade of reading—I was far too excited now to focus on the words my eyes skated over—until long after the door had clicked closed behind her; cautiousness was beaten into meat this point. Finally, with a yawn and a stretch, I marked my place and stood before returning to the shelves, pretending to lazily peruse the volumes before me. Just in case.

Steadily, I wove my way through the shelves until I reached the very back of the library, and a locked door I hadn't yet had the time or opportunity to investigate. With a subtle glance to make sure I was shielded from any cameras or windows, I eagerly turned to the lock before me. My skill at picking was still clumsy, but at least I knew the mechanics, and while it took longer than I would have liked, it still clicked open obediently. Smiling smugly, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, stowing my tools away.

The titles I found there, however, were somewhat anti-climatic. Nothing jumped out as obviously containing nefarious secrets, but with a sigh, I realized I shouldn't have expected such anyway. Still, I mentally stored away those that I found, quickly finishing a scan of the small room. Now… where to start…?

A soft noise startled me, and I spun, only to frown in irritation as I realized it came from a vent set into the wall. Trust the air-conditioning to be what gave me a heart-attack. Intrigued despite myself, I crouched in front of the grate, turning my ear to listen. Under the far-away rush of air flooding to other rooms, there were quiet noises steadily coming from another section of the building. I couldn't quite make them out, but I knew they were definitely caused by another person.

Who else would still be in the study center this late at night? Certainly not any of my classmates… Curiosity getting the better of me once again, and pointedly ignoring the inner voice reminding me rather rudely about the embarrassment that had resulted from my last adventure through the vents—I had gotten stuck, and while I hadn't been found, it had still been an uncomfortable three hours before I'd finally managed to wriggle myself free—I quickly had the grate lifted halfway. No sense taking it off completely and alerting anyone passing to something amiss.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer for coordination, I slipped inside, quietly shutting the grate behind me. Determined and encouraged by a larger ventilation system than I'd previously explored, I began crawling my way awkwardly toward the sounds of my fellow late-night adventurer.


	7. chapter 6

**chapter 6**

The one thing I thought as I crawled awkwardly through those vents was to wonder repeatedly why in the hell I had thought this would be an exciting adventure. Now that I was actually inside them, what had only been quiet rustling and soft noises were now so amplified by tight metal walls and trapped by my own body that they were practically deafening. My heart leapt uncomfortably into my throat as one of the air conditioning units close by kicked on, and the noise and wind kicked up to such a degree that it felt like being trapped in a hurricane. The walls shook under the force, and I squeezed my eyes shut in sheer terror.

But what was far more frightening than the sudden concern of potentially dying in an air vent was the thought of returning to an empty life where every step was shadowed and documented, knowing that I'd turned back from what might be the only chance I had to better understand the hell I was trapped in. I may not be strong or brave, but I am and always have been fiercely stubborn, and so with a renewed determination, I began moving forward again, following the direction the sounds had come from and instinct.

After squirming my way around several tight corners and turns, I finally reached the source of the strange sounds I'd heard, and I wished then with everything I had that I hadn't. That moment, more than any other, changed everything. I will never be able to forget what I heard and saw that night; I will carry those screams and tears in my heart until the day I die.


	8. chapter 7

**chapter 7**

The one person who had treated me like a human in the past six months, the one person I cared about out of everyone around, my best friend in this God-forsaken corner of hell, was strapped roughly to a metal table, denied the dignity of freedom, clothes, and humanity. Swallowing the lump in my throat that had to be my heart, I saw the blood caked around the restraints, the painful gag bound over his mouth, the machines hooked up to too many places to count, the small, steadily bleeding incisions, and the tears in those grey-blue eyes I'd learned felt like home. Even without the beeping of a monitor I couldn't bring myself to look at, I could tell his heart was racing; I could see it pounding a staccato against his chest even from where I lay, watching in horrified silence.

A sudden voice snapped my attention away from the gruesome state of my only friend, and my eyes narrowed as I recognized one of the "professors" standing near the table and wearing a lab coat and his "student" aide. It was the aide who'd spoken, glancing around the room nervously, and I instinctively shrank back. "Did you just hear something?"

"What could I have possibly heard over the sound of your incessant whining?" the professor snapped irritably, and his aide shut up with a look that made it clear he didn't wish to upset the man and become his next victim. "Hurry up and prepare the infusion."

Fearfully, I looked back at my friend, and froze as he turned, catching my eyes with a look that spoke volumes and brought tears to my eyes. Slowly, I nodded, pressing my palm against the grate and wishing I was someone stronger, braver, smarter… Maybe then I could have stopped what happened next. Maybe then I could have saved him.

I saw a tear slide down his face, and then he gave the smallest of nods. Everything happened so quickly after that; the professor moved to stand over him, holding a syringe that hurt to look at and blocking my view of what happened, but it was clear enough. I heard the muffled scream as whatever had filled it was injected into his bloodstream, and then the man stepped back, watching calmly. I have never wanted to kill someone as much as I did then. But my silent rage was frozen as grey-blue eyes met mine once more, wide in terror and filled with pain, saying a silent goodbye that broke my heart before they rolled back and a high-pitched scream shattered the air. I think I may have sobbed as his body started shaking, and then the convulsions started. My knowledge of anatomy has never been vast, but I'm aware enough to know that the human body should never bend and twist so violently. Feeling like I was going to vomit, I turned and fled as fast as I could. I would never be fast enough to escape that soul-shattering screaming, though.

He had wanted to be a doctor. I remembered that suddenly as I turned painfully around a corner. He had wanted to be a doctor so he could help treat children, like his sister. And now… now he would be another statistic, a specimen, a mysterious disappearance, another son for another mother to mourn without ever knowing the truth.


	9. chapter 8

**chapter 8**

The scream stopped suddenly, and my heart stopped with it. For a moment, I couldn't breathe, and the walls were too tight. It felt like I was drowning, and I was about to lose my mind. Biting my lip to keep myself from screaming, I moved as fast as I could, no longer paying attention to where I was going, as long as I was going, because if I stopped, I would break. And having a panic attack in a ventilation system is not something I recommend. Neither would I recommend stumbling blindly through them, as sometimes they drop suddenly.

There was a moment when my surprise at having the floor suddenly vanish from beneath me overrode the horrified sorrow, and then gravity took over, and all I could think about was trying to find which way was up and keep myself from getting more bruises than I already had. My back and head hit something roughly, and for a moment my descent paused, and then with a creak, I was falling again, too dazed now to care. I landed painfully, banging my head again, and I realized as my ears began to ring that I probably had a concussion. My vision blurred, and I thought I heard noises over the ringing and pounding that filled my head. It looked like I'd finally run out of dumb luck; my stupid adventures had caught up with me, and there was no telling what would happen to me now. Even if I somehow managed not to get caught this time, which was unlikely, there was nowhere truly safe here. I wondered dimly if I would ever see home again.

I thought, before my vision went completely black, that I saw a flash of something shining through the grey spots dancing in my eyes, but then it faded with consciousness.


	10. chapter 9

**chapter 9**

I woke up hazy, half-blind, and with the distinct feeling that the entirety of the Russian ballet was tap-dancing on the inside of my skull. It took several long and confusing minutes before I finally realized that my eyelids weren't green and slightly fuzzy, and a further fifteen before I could summon enough energy to care. Thirty minutes after that, I finally lifted the arm that didn't feel heavier than a behemoth and peeled the damp cloth off of my forehead. And proceeded to stare at it for another six minutes, wondering where the hell it had come from and how it had gotten on my face.

My brain was saved from overheating by the door opening, and my eyes slowly slid past the cloth to focus on the unfamiliar face blinking in surprise back at me. I continued to stare blankly as a relieved smile replaced bewilderment, and then it was my turn to be stunned as the woman standing in my doorway turned and called gently to the general direction of what I thought was my kitchen. "She's awake." At this point, the Russian ballet, jealous of the attention that should have been theirs and not pleased with the sudden return of sound, promptly overrode the strands of curiosity that had been attempting to solve the mystery that had become my memory. Gentle hands broke through the cloud in my vision and took the cloth, disappearing for a moment, and then returning to ease my rebellious and achy body into a somewhat vertical position. "How're you feeling?" asked the voice that sounded like waterfalls and singing, and I heard my own voice, raspy, hoarse, and cracking, reply with and almost inaudible "fine" out of sheer reflex.

That was exactly how I didn't feel at the moment, actually, but my brain had forgotten how to formulate those things called sentences once it registered the cause of the heaviness in my arm. I almost passed out again right then, and quickly turned my head away, swallowing heavily. With my eyes tightly shut, I held the arm out toward my helper, and I had to swallow a few more times before I could get the words out. "Take it out…" I finally squeaked, and was mildly embarrassed that the rest of me was as shaky as my voice. "Please… get it out…"

Thankfully the woman didn't question it, and I vaguely heard her murmuring reassurances as she carefully removed the IV. The world lurched sideways, and with no amount of grace whatsoever I managed to stumble into my bathroom and collapse by the toilet before my stomach proceeded to empty itself violently. It felt like hours before the spasms stopped, my throat burning and tears coating my cheeks. With a shaky sigh, I flushed before weakly pulling myself to the sink. Slowly, I rinsed the bitterness from my mouth and splashed my face as the world sank back into place around me. My hands shook as I turned the water off, and with no small amount of trepidation, I looked up.

The second I saw myself in the mirror, it all came rushing back like a freight train, and with a tiny whimper, and the last of my dignity, my knees buckled and I slipped back towards the waiting dark. The last thing I heard was a loud thud, which might have been comical, had it not been immediately followed by a pain so intense I saw stars, and then I was out like a light.


	11. chapter 10

**chapter 10**

The Watcher turned at a loud thud from the bathroom, and peered inside. "Oh, damn…" she muttered, catching sight of the girl lying on the floor. She knelt to check her vitals and search for injuries; except for the second large bump already forming on her head, she'd be fine. But not so easy to move. "Hey, I need a hand in here when you get a minute, Gordon Ramsey," she called to her companion in the kitchen.

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, scowling. "What happened?" he asked, his expression shifting to one of concern as he took in the situation.

"Well, for starters, I wouldn't recommend putting that IV back in," the woman replied, helping shift the limp girl so she could be carried. "She saw it, puked her guts out, and I'm guessing passed out again. Pretty sure she hit her head again, too."

The man grunted in reply, then gently scooped up the unconscious girl and set her back in the bed. "I'll get another ice pack," he said softly, and then disappeared again. He returned a minute later, and after seeing that the girl was settled comfortably, set a bottle of painkillers on the nightstand.

"Not that I mind helping you out with all your weird favors, but you planning on telling me what's going on here, Seph?" the woman asked as she flopped back into the chair by the bed. The man paused and glanced over at her, a distant look in his eyes.

"Redemption," he finally replied, voice quiet. At the confused and startled look from his companion, he smirked, and without another word, went to check on his soup.


End file.
